by Lyn Cote
The little girl watched him walk away and then went back to the rag doll and began playing again. Little children all loved Dorritt and were drawn to her. Why did this child prefer Carson to Dorritt? Why did she prefer a man over a woman? That wasn’t the usual way. Alandra found herself dozing on and off, leaning against the oak.
“Ma’am?”
An unfamiliar voice woke her and she looked up.
“Ma’am? Are you Miss Alandra Sandoval?”
She studied the man, tall and handsome with wavy brown hair. She recognized him. She rose and held out her hand. “Mr. LaCroix.” Dorritt’s brother-in-law.
He grinned and shook her hand. “It is you, then. I saw Miss Dorritt lying here and thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. And then I recognized you. Why are you here? I thought you all would stay out west and not get into this fray.”
She could not begin to explain to him all that had happened. “I have come with the Quinns. And my husband Scully Falconer. Your sister-in-law will be most happy to see you unharmed.” Her fatigue made her slide down to sit again.
Stooping to be at eye level with her, he sat back on his heels, facing her. “I’m surprised I didn’t see you before. But there were nearly a thousand of us marching here so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Where did your wife and her family go when they left Buena Vista?” she asked. Dorritt stirred beside her, waking.
“They headed back to Louisiana—” Then Dorritt sat up and he broke off. “Miss Dorritt! Dear sister-in-law! And what has happened to your good husband?”
Alandra watched Dorritt greet her sister’s husband, Henri LaCroix. She listened to the two of them catch up on what had happened to Quinn and other family news. When they went into the now much less crowded hospital tent to see Quinn, she followed.
She sat down on the ground beside her husband. Pressing her wrist to his perspiring forehead to judge his fever, she prayed that his strength would return in full and soon. Again she thought how far they had come over the past two months. They had lived a lifetime.
She looked down at her hands, which had gone without gloves for many weeks. Her nails were broken and the backs were tanned from the sun. Now her fingers were stained with the iodine she had used when nursing. These were not the hands of a lady.
She took a deep breath and reminded herself that Tía Dorritt had always taught her that being a true lady had nothing to do with soft hands and white skin. And today she had come to terms with God over this truth.
Today she had learned that she was a woman like any other. Being a grand lady, owner of thousands of acres of land, did not grant her special privileges in real life. She gazed at Quinn and Scully, still pale and perspiring from their raging fevers. If I am a lady in any sense, it is because such a fine man has married me. I am Scully’s lady.
She dipped the cloth she had in a basin of water and began sponging Scully’s face. She would not allow herself to think that he or Quinn might not heal, might not return to full strength.
When her mind tried to envision going home without either or neither of them, a black bottomless abyss opened in her heart. It threatened to suck her into a despair beyond anything she had ever known.
After nearly a month of intense nursing and now three days of walking and riding, Alandra could hardly believe it, but Buena Vista was just up the road. The first leg of their long journey home had been reached. Henri LaCroix had been released from the Texas Army. and when Quinn and Scully were deemed well enough to travel, he set out with them.
She rode Scully’s horse, and her husband sat in front of her. She could feel him resting back against her and tried not to worry that he still fatigued so easily. Quinn was unable to ride for any length of time, so Carson had rigged up a canvas travois for him.
She wished they were already at home at Rancho Sandoval, where her husband could rest, eat nourishing meals, sit in the sun in the courtyard and heal deeply and completely.
Her husband. Everyone called her Mrs. Falconer and treated her as such. But in the midst of the crowded camp, she and Scully had barely shared a private word. They whispered a bit every day but had not addressed the fact of their marriage. Or the annulment of their marriage. Alandra looked ahead. When they reached home, they would be forced to confront the issue.
Alandra increased the pressure of arms wrapped around Scully’s waist. Resting her cheek against his back comforted her. In the weeks since the battle, full spring had exploded. The Texas bluebonnet, daisies, and wild petunias in red, pink, and white flourished in grass made green from all the winter rain. The same rain that had made them miserable as they slogged through its resulting mud was responsible for all this beauty.
The lane to Buena Vista opened to them, and they turned onto it from the road. It was late in the golden afternoon. The house still stood charred and desolate. But she could see that one of the jacales had been rebuilt, and that smoke was issuing from the chimney of the stove in the detached kitchen out back.
Scully felt his own spirits rise in spite of the lingering weakness that he tried to hide from Alandra. As they rode up to the house, he expected to be met by Amos and Nancy, and indeed the couple came running toward them. “Praise God!” Amos shouted. “Miss Dorritt and Mr. Quinn have come back safe! Hallelujah! Praise Jesus!”
Nancy was clapping and hopping up and down like a child. “You come back. We prayed you would.” Then she began weeping. Amos put his brawny arm around his wife. And then from the house came two white women, an older white man, a young man around Carson’s age, and a little boy and girl.
Exclaiming, Dorritt slid from her horse and embraced them. “Mother! Jewell! I didn’t expect to find you here!”
Mr. LaCroix was welcomed with hugs and shouts too as Scully helped Alandra down and they waited to be introduced. Scully had never met Quinn’s family by marriage. But he had heard about them from Ash, who clearly didn’t think much of them at all.
The older lady was Mrs. Kilbride, Mrs. Quinn’s mother, and the older man was her stepfather. The younger woman was Mrs. Jewell LaCroix, Mrs. Quinn’s half sister, and the little boy and girl were hers. The young man was Mrs. Quinn’s younger half brother, Scott. It was hard to keep them all straight, so Scully just nodded and smiled. Alandra was known to them from previous visits and she received a warm welcome.
When asked by Quinn, Mrs. Kilbride said that the two men wounded at Goliad had headed for home a few weeks before. And then there was a sudden silence. Then Jewell spoke up. “Dorritt, Amos, and Nancy told us that you were here when Houston burned our house.” The woman sounded as if she personally held Mrs. Quinn responsible.
“Yes, I was,” Dorritt replied, “and there was nothing we could do. The fire spread through the treetops. If a spring shower hadn’t put it out, we’d have been forced to run for our lives.” Dorritt turned toward her mother. “My husband is still suffering the effects of severe wounds from the battle and he needs bed rest and some good food.”
“Of course, of course,” the older woman said. “Come. We’ll take him to the kitchen. That’s the best accommodation we have right now.”
Scully and Alandra hung back at the rear of the party. Scully wondered how long they would be stopping here. He had to admit he could use a few days’ rest before traveling again. San Antonio was a week’s ride away, and with the travois slowing them, they would be moving at an armadillo’s pace. After rushing eastward, the trip home would drag on for at least two weeks. And they had to do something about finding Sugar’s family, which might add more days.
Suddenly he just wanted to sit down where he was. Alandra must have sensed this because she looked up at him and put her arm around his waist. “It is only a bit farther.”
He hated this weakness, this having no energy. But he forced a smile for his wife. My wife. He wondered when he and Alandra would ever have a private moment to discuss what they were going to do when they returned to Rancho Sandoval. Did she want their marriage to end?
Nineteen
A week had passed since Scully and the rest of the party had arrived at the burned plantation. While Quinn still traveled on the travois, Scully and Alandra took turns riding and walking, as Carson and his mother did. Four more had joined their party at Buena Vista. Amos and Nancy, now free, were coming to work at the Quinn ranch. And unfortunately yesterday, when they left the plantation, Jewell LaCroix, Mrs. Quinn’s half sister, and her children had been persuaded to come home with her sister’s family, and Mrs. Quinn’s younger brother Scott Kilbride had also joined them.
Scully was not happy about the addition of Jewell LaCroix to their party. He wondered how Henri LaCroix could stand being married to such a spoiled and complaining woman. It didn’t surprise him that LaCroix had encouraged his wife to stay with her half sister while he rebuilt Buena Vista with his father-in-law. Scully hoped that when the rebuilding was done, the man would come and remove the irritating woman from earshot.
“I cannot believe it is taking this long to get to your ranch, Dorritt.” The woman had said this over and over that morning.
Mrs. Quinn finally turned to her. “Jewell, if I hear that once more from you, I will send you back to Buena Vista with our brother.”
Jewell stopped walking and planted her hands on her hips. “Fine. That’s exactly what I want.” She turned to her brother, who was on horseback. He had come along as added protection for the women. “Scott, we are going home now. I don’t know why I let Henri talk me into this trip. I don’t want to walk halfway to Santa Fe.” And with that, she turned around and started back the way they had come. Ignoring Amos and Nancy, who were walking at the rear of the party, she lifted her nose and marched between them and away. Her son and daughter ran after her, calling, “Mama!”
Scott called after her, “Stop!” But of course the woman did not halt. He looked to Mrs. Quinn. “What should I do, Dorritt?”
Mrs. Quinn gestured with her hand. “Go with her, Scott. You know she must always have her way. She never changes.”
Scott swung down from his horse and hugged her. “Please write when you can. I know Mother will worry about you.” Then he leaned down to the travois and shook Quinn’s hand, and then Carson’s. “God be with you. I better get her home.” With that and a wave to Scully and the others, the young man caught up with his sister.
“Poor Henri,” Quinn said, and closed his eyes. “But what a relief.”
Scully couldn’t help himself. He chuckled. “Whew!” Then they were all laughing, and it felt so good to laugh. Amos and Nancy looked relieved. Amos was free, but had signed a paper promising to pay for Nancy over the next ten years. Mrs. Quinn had insisted the couple stay together. Her stepfather had grumbled loudly but finally had given in.
“Let’s get going,” Carson urged. “I think Sugar’s cabin is only a day’s ride from here.”
Scully could see Alandra wanted to ask him how he was but didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. He nodded and murmured, “I’m fine.” Of course, he wasn’t fine, the weakness still plagued him. But at least he could ride. Quinn still didn’t have the strength to ride or walk. It was a worry. To them all.
Two days later Carson called out, “Here it is! This is the lane to the house where we found Sugar.”
Alandra gazed at the small grove of live oaks and pine.
“Are you certain, son?” Dorritt asked, reining her horse.
“Yes, here see the mark I carved into the tree.”
They all looked to the X etched into the bark of a cottonwood. Alandra glanced at Sugar, who was walking beside Quinn. The little girl looked frightened. “Carson,” Alandra said, “why don’t you get down and hold Sugar’s hand?”
He followed Alandra’s gaze, and seeing the little girl’s expression, did as she’d suggested. “Don’t worry, Sugar. You will be all right. We are here with you.”
The little girl took his hand, but looked at the ground and, of course, said nothing. Alandra wondered again why she did not look happy to be home.
At the end of the short track, they reached a small log cabin. “Hello the house!” Carson called.
No answer came.
Carson led a plainly reluctant Sugar to the door. He knocked and waited and called again, looking around.
Alandra scanned the cabin yard and was not impressed. It was not the usual neat cabin and barn. It looked rougher. But then, it had been empty for over a month, and spring was bringing back weeds along with the wildflowers.
Carson pushed the door and it opened. Sugar refused to go inside. He entered and immediately returned. “It looks like no one has been here since we were, Ma.”
No one seemed to know what to say to this. Alandra had been certain Sugar’s family would have returned by now. Many Texian families had already returned from Louisiana. And their party had not been the only travelers on this road. Along the way they had spoken to many others returning home.
“What should we do?” Carson asked.
“Carve a message somewhere it can be seen easily,” Quinn said. Sugar ran to Quinn and climbed up beside him on the travois. She had taken to Quinn too.
Carson approached a birch tree near the cabin and spent several minutes there and carved: Girl at Rancho Sandoval. Alandra had joined him, and he turned to her and said, “I hope you don’t mind, but your ranch is so well known. And if they come to you, you can send them on to our place.”
“That will be fine,” she agreed.
“We should reach your rancho in about three days,” Dorritt said, and sighed. “Alandra, I will be so happy to see your hacienda. Not long now, and we’ll be home.”
Alandra’s longing to be home again had grown stronger every day. She felt it as a physical pull, as if she were the hand on a compass and her hacienda was due north. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath.
And then glanced sideways at Scully who was mounted. While they traveled the road home, she did not have the courage to broach the fate of their marriage. In her courtyard, listening to the spring trickling in the stone fountain, she could face whatever might come. In her courtyard, she could ask him whether he wanted to annul their marriage or not. This thought brought a sharp pang. She pushed the ache aside or tried to. She pictured herself there in the courtyard. Just a few more days.
Recognizing familiar landmarks since dawn, Alandra walking, gripped Sugar’s hand, trying to hold in the excitement expanding like hot air inside her. Riding beside her, Scully looked down at her, and she tried to control her smile, which was trembling at the corners of her mouth.
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” Carson said, turning in the saddle to look around at everyone, “but can’t we hurry a little? We’re almost to Alandra’s.”
“Yes, we can,” Quinn answered. “And I’m not arriving there on this blasted travois.” He called out, “Whoa!”
Everyone else glanced toward Dorritt, who was walking beside Quinn. She nodded her agreement, and Carson reined the horse. Quinn rolled off the travois and then, with Carson’s help, mounted the horse that had been pulling the travois. Dorritt climbed up behind him.
Alandra wished Scully would ask her to ride the last few miles behind him, but she didn’t say anything. Ever since she decided to wait until they reached her home to discuss their marriage, their arrival had come to mean even more to her than returning to the familiar setting. Now the journey of the war would end, and her life with Scully would begin—if he wanted her.
And then they came over the rise and there it was—Rancho Sandoval, laid out before them. As they moved closer. Alandra looked for her people to pour out from the hacienda, the barn, the jacales, to welcome her. Whenever she returned from a trip, they had turned out to greet her. But today no one appeared. The ranch was quiet, still. She looked at Scully. “Take me
up with you! I cannot wait any longer.”
He rode over to her, reached down and swung her up behind him. Then he nudged his horse and they were galloping up to the front door. The others kept up with them. When they reached the door, Alandra gasped. The house looked deserted, empty, abandoned.
She slipped down from the horse and approached the door, which had been tied shut with a strong rope. Fear whirled inside her. “Ramirez! Maria! Paloma!” She began calling names in the eerie stillness. The only reply was the whoosh of the wind blowing around the adobe walls.
What might she find on the other side of the door? What had happened here? She pounded on it, then began working at the knot. The doors had never been tied shut like this. Never.
“Wait!” Scully called out. “Let me.”
Alandra stepped back, her eyes moist. “What do you think has happened to everyone?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out.” He worked the knots out of the stout rope and then pulled open the double doors and stepped inside. He turned to them and held up his hand. “Wait here till I look around inside.”
But Alandra looked past him into the courtyard bright with the sunshine. The fountain sounded loud in the stillness. Entering the courtyard, she saw that all the wrought-iron furniture was gone and the sheltered plants were limp from lack of water. She moved toward the corridor from the courtyard to her bedroom, then ran down the hallway to her room. As she passed the dining room and drawing room, which were empty. Even the portraits of her mother and father had been taken away.
Her bedroom had been stripped. It was completely bare. She stood in the doorway and could hardly breathe. Where was everyone and everything? Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away.
She turned, then, and stumbled back to the courtyard. The Quinns and Amos and Nancy waited there, looking uncomfortable. Across from her, Scully returned from the opposite wing.
“Is that empty too?” she asked.
He nodded, looking grim.
Her mind rebelled, imagining the hacienda as it had looked, as it should look. She gazed into Scully’s eyes. “Everything, everyone, is gone.” She was shocked. How could this have happened? Her knees weakened and she staggered over to the stone fountain and sat down on the stone wall around the wide pool.
